The Reaper
by weemcg33
Summary: It's over a year since Clint had his mission in jail and a new assassin 'the Reaper' has been causing havoc for SHIELD. Three agents have been killed and Phil Coulson is feeling stressed. After a fight with his charge, Phil finds out Clint has taken off after the Reaper himself. Hawkeye soon realises he and the Reaper have a past connection, it may just be the death of him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, only the character's I put in their world to play.

Authors Note: This is the sequel to 'Infiltration', you don't have to read the other first, but it might fill in some of the blanks. ;)

A HUGE thanks to my beta DevinBourdain, you help me out soooooo much!

It's just over a year since Clint had his mission in jail and a new assassin 'the Reaper' has been causing havoc for SHIELD. Three agents have been killed and Phil Coulson is feeling the stress of the situation. After a big fight with his young charge, Phil finds out Clint has taken off and must decide whether to go after the archer or stay and concentrate on finding the Reaper. He soon finds out that he won't have to look very far as the archer attracts trouble on his best day.

When the Reaper and the Hawk face against each other, it would be best to stay out of the way.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."_

― _Norman Cousins_

* * *

"Clint!"

"Fuck you, Phil!" Clint snapped still walking away.

"Clint, don't you walk away from me!" The handler didn't raise his voice, but anyone passing by could tell he was pissed. Phil glared at any agent who even dared look in his direction as he followed the archer through the winding corridors of the SHIELD base.

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child," Clint shot back.

Phil grabbed the archer's arm and spun him around, thankful that for once his agent didn't throw a punch. "Stop acting like one then."

Barton glared daggers at the older agent before pulling his arm free. "You're a dick!"

Coulson raised his eyebrows in surprise at the anger behind his young charge's eyes. "I'm being your handler Clint, and your friend. We are _not_ using you as bait for this guy. No chance in hell."

Clint looked like he was going to reply but clamped his mouth shut. The older agent glanced around and decided this conversation would be better off somewhere out of ear shot. He grabbed Clint's arm again and pulled him into the nearest empty office, closing the door behind him before leaning against it. The archer paced the small room while running his hand through his short hair.

"How else are we going to catch this guy, Phil? He is always two steps ahead of us; has taken out three of our agents and is showing no sign of stopping." Clint tried to reason with his handler but since the deaths and Fury deciding to send the Hawk to take care of business, Phil had been pretty highly strung.

"No." Phil's decision was final and only made the younger agent angrier.

"And that's it, is it? The final word? I don't get any fucking say in the matter?" Clint shouted at the older man as he stepped into his personal space. He should have known it wouldn't faze the older agent, Phil stood his ground.

"I won't send you into a situation when we have no idea what this guy really wants," Phil told him calmly, but inside he wanted to shake the archer and tell him to start thinking about himself for a change and stop throwing himself into danger.

Clint stepped out of his handler's space and leaned against the nearest table. "Phil, this guy needs to be stopped. You know he does and I can't just sit back and let more people die. Not if there's something I can do about it."

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. "Clint this guy isn't our usual assassin. We have virtually nothing on him, not even a description. He's a ghost, invisible until he strikes and it isn't one shot one kill like you do. He tortured those agents and then gutted them, so forgive me if I don't want to send you into a situation with this guy and not have more information to go on." Phil stared into the blue eyes of his charge. "I can't lose anyone else kid, I just…I can't." The handler felt exhausted, it really took it out of him when he and Clint fought.

Barton stood silently, watching the emotions flash across Phil's face before they were hidden again. He stepped forward and clapped his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Fine, but as soon as we have more information on this guy, I'm going in, Phil." The archer was adamant he would be the one to take this son of a bitch down. Coulson couldn't disagree, he just didn't want Clint ending up like the other agents after a run in with the deadly assassin. It was his instinct to protect the kid when he wouldn't think of himself, as he so often did.

Phil gave him a brief nod and together they walked out of the small office, the older agent knew they had to find more Intel on this assassin, because he was positive that a lot more people were going to die before they managed to find him. Then there would be no stopping the Hawk from throwing himself into the fire. If there was one thing Clint was consistent on, it was his need to eradicate evil; the Reaper was as evil as they came.

* * *

The shadow in the darkness stood slowly, wiping the blood from his blade and smirked down at his latest victim before sliding the knife back in its sheath. His eyes scanned the empty warehouse for any sign that his dirty little secret has been discovered early. After he'd killed the first agent, more had been sent after him. They'd failed, the SHIELD agents he'd tortured had told him as much. They also didn't seem to be aware of his first few kills which made him smile. He had gotten what information he could before he'd lost control again, all he remembered was blood; the red liquid was everywhere. His hands, arms, face and hair were covered.

The Reaper hoped he got the chance to practice his methods on more of the SHIELD agents. They were different from civilians, had more training in withstanding torture. He found it more enjoyable to bring out screams of pain from people who were apparently better prepared, the game lasted longer that way. It made him feel untouchable. He craved the feeling he got when cutting into someone, the way his knife would slice their skin like it was butter. Then he'd watch as the blood spilled out of their bodies onto the cold hard floor. Perhaps that's why surgeons sometimes had a god complex; they held someone's life in their hands. Just like him.

He had named himself the Reaper because he _was_ death, and once he decided you were his next target, there was no escaping him. The assassin headed down the dark street towards his apartment, people he walked past didn't pay any attention to the man wearing a dark jacket and jeans, or think anything odd when he asked a young woman outside a club for a light. Smirking as he entered his building, he made his way to his door, pausing to glance both ways before pulling his keys out. He hesitated before putting the key in the lock, the blood soaked gears of his mind turning with fiendish delight. Maybe he could convince the young girl outside the club to come up to his for a party she'd never forget.

The decision was instantaneous, he dropped the keys into this pocket and walked back down the stairs. Time to feed his addiction again, he grinned and stepped back out into the night.

* * *

Dun,dun,dunnnnn...haha I know I'm evil.

Sorry it took a bit longer than expected to get this story posted, 'Sanctuary' is still in the works but you will be happy to hear that this story is complete and I will get the chapters up as quick as I can.

Hope you all enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Clint sat hunched over one of the briefing room tables, reports, witness statements and pictures were all spread across the large desk. He stared intently at each picture, meticulously studying every detail in the reports for the past five hours and now his head was starting to hurt. He took a sip of coffee and leaned back in the chair, the archer didn't like to admit it, but this guy was _good_. This new assassin was an expert at staying hidden and also cleaning up after himself. There was never a trace of evidence to his true identity, only a message written in blood on the wall of the abandoned house where they found the second agent, revealing his chosen moniker, _Reaper._ Below his name was his calling card, a symbol translating to 'death'.

The archer leaned forward and picked up the picture of the second agent, something had happened during that one, some reason that he wanted to give them his name. The Reaper was taunting them, setting the stage for an elaborate game of cat and mouse, giving them little clues to nibble on in the hopes that SHIELD would make the game more interesting. The guy was a psychopath.

Clint scanned the picture and gave a frustrated huff when he didn't see anything that would help and threw the photo back onto the table. Phil stormed into the room and the younger agent raised an eyebrow as two files were thrown towards him. The older agent bent over, then without warning slammed his fist down on the table, making the archer jump.

The room was deathly silent and all Barton could hear was Phil's harsh breathing, the man was visibly shaking with rage.

"Phil?" Clint spoke cautiously, "what is it?"

The handler closed his eyes and took three deep breaths before turning to his young charge. "Open them." He pointed to the files.

Clint did as he was asked and looked at the first file, he felt physically sick, which took a lot with the young assassin. It was another victim; that made four.

"Four agents?" He asked, frowning when Phil shook his head and pointed to the second file. "No, four agents and one civilian. A woman this time, he is changing his type, and Fury thinks he might have some older crimes, similar to this one. It could be the same guy, if it is, he has been doing this for years." Coulson gripped the back of the chair he was leaning against and forced himself to calm down. The Reaper was one of the most sadistic, evil, psychopaths that he'd ever been charged with taking down.

The archer felt a familiar anger bubbling up to the surface. "I need to do something Phil; I need to do something now! This guy is a maniac and isn't going to stop until I put an arrow through his heart. I want to check out the crime scene, see if I can spot anything the others might have missed."

Barton stood abruptly knocking the chair over and was ready to walk out the door when Phil stopped him. "Not yet, Clint." His tone was final and Clint was already shaking his head. "I need to do this Phil."

Phil didn't know why the kid wouldn't listen to him, there was still too many unknowns and he wasn't about to let the young archer walk out and get himself killed. From his point of view the Reaper was just as deadly if not more so than Clint, so the handler knew when he spoke his next words the younger agent wasn't going to be happy.

"I'm ordering you to stay put until we find more on this guy." Coulson saw a flash behind the archer's eyes and watched him take a step toward him. Phil didn't back down, he was just as pissed with this situation if not more so. The older agent forced himself not to buckle under the heat of Clint's glare; he'd never seen the kid look as deadly as he did in that moment when he wasn't facing down a target.

"You're _ordering_ me?" Clint growled quietly, taking another step forward. On some level the young agent knew that Coulson was simply looking out for him, but he hated being told what to do. Phil was never forceful with him when it came to orders and always gave him a chance to argue his point if he didn't agree with the decision. The last time Clint was ordered to do something it had ended in tragedy; a shop keeper was shot and he was thrown in prison. Not one of his best memories.

Phil raised his hands to the archer's shoulders intending to stop his advance, but Clint knocked the hands away and pushed Phil back a step. The older agent glared at his charge. "Yes, that's an order, now are you going to follow it or do I have to make you?" The handler realised just a second too late that he might have pushed a little too far. Clint swiped the older agent's legs out from under him and was straddling his chest with his forearm across Phil's throat.

Coulson didn't show any hint of fear but he was worried by the darkness in the kid's eyes, he hadn't seen that in a while now. "Clint?" He managed to croak out.

The archer stared down at Phil for a long moment then seemed to snap out of it, his eyes widened and he was off of Phil and out of the door in the next second. Coulson lay still, not sure what the hell had just happened but he knew he had to find the kid, _before_ he did something stupid.

* * *

Fury turned and watched as Coulson entered the main command centre of the base, heading straight for one of the unmanned computers. The agent started typing furiously, hitting the keys with more force than was necessary, the rapid clicking echoing off the cold white walls.

Nick stood to his full height and walked over to stand behind Phil. "What is it?"

The director was shocked when Phil didn't answer right away. The younger agent ran a hand through his thinning hair and turned to face him. Fury thought pissed, worried and desperate were all cracking through Phil's usual calm and stoic features. "Clint took off, he left the base."

Fury's eyes widened. "What do you mean took off?" The director was concerned, usually Phil could calm the young agent down and get him to see sense before he did something reckless. Coulson looked ready to hit something and Nick knew this thing with the Reaper was taking its toll on a lot of people within the organisation. Fury was starting to worry about his agent as he was usually the one to let nothing faze him, took it all in stride. But this case was eating at everyone and tempers were flaring, and it seemed to be the same with Coulson and Barton.

"He's left the base, probably to go to the latest crime scene. He wants to catch this guy so bad Director, but I'm worried he isn't thinking everything through and this assassin isn't an amateur. Clint just won't listen to me, we got in an argument and he left." Phil covered his face with his hands and blew out a breath. Nick placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"He will be fine Phil. If you want I will send a couple of agents to the crime scene to look for him?" Fury offered.

Phil nodded, he wanted nothing more than to go after his agent but he also knew it was best to let him cool off. They hadn't had many fights in their partnership but when they did it was better for both of them to stay out of each other's way for a few hours at least. Clint would come back, and hopefully he would have found something to help them catch the Reaper.

Phil just hoped he didn't get himself killed in the process, who was he kidding, the kid could find trouble on his best day.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint sat outside the warehouse on his motorcycle. Pulling his helmet off, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe he'd done that to Phil, he'd just lost it for a second and the next thing he knew his handler was underneath him looking a little worried. Clint also knew that Coulson wouldn't hold it against him, the man never did. But the younger agent knew he'd crossed a line, Phil was only trying to protect him as always.

The archer swung his leg around and got off the bike, glancing at the empty building, his eyes scanning the area for any threats. He could see why the assassin had picked this place; it was out of the way and looked ready to collapse. Walking stealthily to the side door, Clint entered and used his near perfect eyesight to scan the rest of the building. He spotted the crime scene tape at the far end and moved cautiously towards it.

The young assassin hadn't wanted to say anything to Phil but he was getting a twisted sense of deja vu with this killer, even though he knew for a fact he'd never been sent after anyone like this guy. The Reaper, Clint shook his head at the name and crouched down next to the dried blood that covered a large portion of the concrete floor. This is where he tortured the poor girl, her name was Laura Griffin; she was only twenty-three. Barton stood and walked around looking for any other clue that the killer might have left, he seemed like the type to show off. Just as he was about to give up, Clint's eyes spotted something in the far corner, wedged under one of the crates. Lifting the empty crate easily, the archer picked up the object and held it in his hand. It was a silver coin, quite old from the looks of it and it had an emblem on the back which looked eerily similar to the symbol the Reaper had put on the wall.

He frowned as he stared at the coin, it felt like he'd seen it before, but that couldn't be right. Clint racked his brain trying to think where he'd seen it, but it just wasn't coming to him. He slid the coin into his pocket and walked swiftly out of the warehouse, time to check where the victim had gone missing from.

Hawkeye put on his black helmet and swung his leg over the black Ducati. He grinned when he revved her and sped off round the corner. Riding his motorbike was almost as good as leaping across rooftops, it made him feel relaxed. Which was exactly what he needed right now. The ride was far too brief for his liking, taking a mere five minutes to get to the club, granted if he obeyed the speed limit, it would have been a twenty minute journey. He climbed off the bike and headed towards the entrance. Flashing his fake badge at the bouncers, he only used it in these types of situations and was given entry. He noticed a few girls were waiting outside in the line were giving him appraising looks. Smiling to himself he made his way to the bar, _still got it_, he chuckled and headed for the bartender, they were the best people to find out information from.

Clint sipped on his third beer as the bartender filled him in on everything he remembered from the night before. The man had been more than happy to share what he saw when Clint slipped a twenty dollar bill across the counter. "The guy was just slightly taller than you mate, dark hair, looked pretty normal to me. He chatted to that girl for about ten minutes before they left together."

The young agent nodded. "Did he say anything to you?" The bartender shook his head. "If he came in here again would you recognise him?"

"Yeah definitely."

The Hawk downed the last half of his beer and slid a card across the counter. "If you see him again, give me a call. Don't try to take this guy on yourself."

The man nodded in agreement. "You got it."

"Thanks." Clint slid off the stool and headed towards the facilities. He wasn't really a big drinker; losing your parents to a drunk driver will do that to you.

The men's room was empty when he entered and Clint found himself rushing to finish and wash his hands. Whoever had been in there last, really needed to get themselves checked. He'd just finished drying his hands when he heard someone enter, and when he turned around, Clint found himself face to face with an angry looking man, Barton tried to remember pissing anyone off lately but nothing came to mind.

"Can I help you? Or do you always look so cheery?"

Clint dodged the fist that was aimed for his head and threw one of his own. It connected solidly with the man's jaw, but the man looked nothing more than surprised rather than hurt. The archer easily dodged the next few punches which seemed to annoy the bigger man. Clint was more than amused as the man charged at him, the young agent spun out of the way at the last second, watching the man run head first into the tiled wall. Chuckling he turned to leave and was shocked to find another man standing right there, the guy's fist already smashing into his face before he could react. The archer stumbled back into the wall, banging his head in the process. He was mentally kicking himself, it might only have been three beers but Clint wasn't used to drinking and it was affecting his abilities.

The second man punched him in the stomach and Barton was sinking to his knees by the second hit. Damn this guy had fists of steel. Clint managed to block the next hit aimed at his head, but the knee to his face had him spitting up blood. _What the fuck_?

The archer really didn't have a clue what he'd done to deserve this, maybe he looked at the guy wrong, sometimes that was all it took for Clint to find trouble. He raised his hands to defend himself and frowned when the man was suddenly being dragged away from him. His eyes flicked to the first guy who was still lying unconscious on the floor.

"I take it trouble follows you wherever you go Clint?"

The young agents head snapped up at hearing that voice and he couldn't help but sigh in relief. "Lucas?"

Lucas chuckled and pulled the younger man into a standing position. "Yeah kid, it's me. I thought you only got your ass kicked in prison, seems I was mistaken."

Clint laughed and wiped the blood from his busted lip. "Yeah, sadly I can piss a lot of people off when I'm not even trying. It's a gift."

Lucas made sure the kid could stand without help and opened the door to exit the men's room.

"It's good to see you kid. I was kind of hoping to bump into you at some point... say thanks and all that."

Barton shook his head. "You don't have to thank me Lucas, you saved my life in there." He frowned at the taller man. "How come you're out already?"

Lucas squeezed the kid's shoulder. "It seems I might have your friend to thank for that then. I thought it was you."

Clint looked pleased as he thought of the strings Phil was always pulling for him. "Phil. He's the one with the connections."

"Well, tell him thanks."

"I will. What are you doing here?" Clint asked as they made their way outside.

Lucas placed a hand on Clint shoulder. "I live just down the street, this is my usual."

Clint frowned. "Did you hear about what happened? The girl that was here last night?"

"Yeah. Why?" The bigger man shook his head. "You're after that guy, the one that did it?"

Barton nodded. He swung his leg over the bike and held the helmet in his hands.

"Be careful, Clint. This guy is dangerous."

"Danger's my middle name." Clint beamed and put his helmet on.

Lucas chuckled, "Really I thought it was Francis?"

The young agent's eyes widened in shock. "How the hell did you know that?"

"I can't reveal my sources." He deadpanned and took a moment to admire the motorbike. "Very nice."

The archer nodded back and revved the engine. "I need to get back. There's something I need to check out. Where can I find you?"

Lucas stepped forward and handed the younger man a card. "That's my number, just give me a shout kid. We need to catch up."

Clint nodded and snapped the visor down and gave the other man a half salute. Speeding off down the street, he took the turn that would take him to the first location the Reaper had left a body. He was going to check each of the locations for more clues, hopefully the other assassin had decided to leave something at each of the scenes. Clint was getting a terrible feeling that he knew who this guy was, he just wasn't sure why.

* * *

Pulling up outside the first building, the archer pulled his helmet off and moved silently to the side of the building, using the fire escape to get to the third floor, he pried the nearest window open and climbed in. It seemed the Reaper liked to use abandoned buildings or warehouses for his torture sessions. Clint checked every nook and cranny for a sign, something that might jog his memory about this guy.

His eyes narrowed when he spotted something in the corner. _Man the clean-up crews really needed to get their eyes tested_. He bent down and picked up the object, frowning when he realised it was another coin. Clint wasn't sure what it meant but he knew the Reaper was leaving tokens, and was positive if he went to each of the crime scenes he would find more of these coins.

Just as he was about to leave, his phone started to vibrate. Putting the coin in his pocket along with the other, he pulled his phone out and flipped it open.

"Barton."

"Clint, where the hell are you?" Came his handler's agitated voice. There was a hint of concern hidden under the anger that assaulted his ear.

"I told you, checking out the crime scenes. I found something Phil, he's leaving gifts."

Phil was silent for a moment. "What kind of gifts?"

Clint shook his head in amusement, his handler was way too professional to stay mad at him. "It's silver coins with what looks like the same symbol he drew on the wall; the one that means 'death'."

"Good work Clint, now I know it's a long shot but if you bring the coins back we can check for fingerprints. You never know he might have gotten sloppy."

The archer grinned. "That was the plan, I'm just going to check the other locations then head back."

"Alright, just…be careful."

"Always Phil." Clint was about to hang up when he realised he needed to say it, "I'm sorry, Phil."

"It's forgotten, just get your ass back here in one piece, you hear me?" Coulson still sounded worried but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

"Yes sir!" He snapped the phone shut and made his way back down the fire escape. Time to check out those other locations; he'd be back in time for dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint had just left the third location when he had a sinking feeling in his gut, the one that usually told him shit was about to hit the fan. Making his way back to his Ducati, Clint remained wary of his surroundings and proceeded with an air of caution. The street was empty, and Barton got the sinking feeling he was being watched. He hated that feeling and quickly jumped on the bike.

The Hawk was only ten minutes away from the base when the memory from his childhood came back to him like a slap on the face. He hated that it took him this long to piece it together, but it all made sense. The symbol, the blood and the constant reference to death. He'd known a kid like that from his days in the orphanage, the archer had tried to blank out his time spent in that hell hole, which was probably why it had taken him so long to recall the young boy. The kid's name was Reece and he had been brought in not long after his own father had almost beaten him to death in a drunken rage. Clint had taken it upon himself to look out for the youngster but even he had noticed something off about the kid. He wasn't sure if it was because of what his dad had done to him or if he'd always been that way, but for the first three months Reece barely said two words to anyone and when he finally did start talking he spoke of death and blood, and started drawing weird pictures that were a match to the symbol on the coins he had found. Clint pulled onto the side of the road and pulled his helmet off with a frustrated growl. _Damn it_! It had been right there in front of him.

He snapped open his phone and dialled Phil.

"Coulson."

"Phil, I need you to look up a name, Reece Myers." Clint heard his handler's fingers typing quickly and smiled to himself, Phil didn't even ask why, he just did.

"There is no file on him after he turned sixteen Clint, it's like he just disappeared." Clint sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Who is he Clint?" Came the worried tone from his handler when he knew his charge was going to do something stupid.

"It will take too long to get into Phil, but I will explain later, alright? I have to meet up with Lucas back at the bar the last victim was taken from. I think the Reaper might stay close by."

"Lucas?" Phil's confusion was clear.

"Yeah Lucas from prison, the one you helped out," Clint explained.

"Alright, just be careful Clint. I'm sending agents over to assist you. This guy is dangerous and I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks." His handler made it clear he wasn't getting a choice and Barton's lips quirked in a childish grin, it was so like him.

"Fine, but I will meet them there. I'll be at the bar."

"Be careful."

"I will." With that he hung up and dialled the number Lucas gave him. It rang a few times then went to voicemail. Clint frowned and tried again, this time it went straight to voicemail. _Shit_. Maybe that was the sinking feeling he felt, something had happened to Lucas. The young archer knew he might just be acting paranoid but when had anything ever worked out right for him. He also knew that Lucas was like him, a protector and did what he could to look out for the people he cared about. Clint knew he'd fallen into that category with the older man. The young agent was willing to bet that Lucas went asking questions after he left the bar. Deciding to be safe rather than sorry, he sent the number to Phil and asked him to find the location. Pulling the helmet back on, Clint flicked up the stand with his foot and took off in the direction of the bar. He would be damned if he let anything happen to Lucas after he saved his life.

As he pulled up outside the bar Clint felt his phone vibrate, pulling it from his pocket he checked to see what Phil had found but it wasn't from his handler, it was a message from Lucas. 'Meet me at room 102 in the apartments across from the bar. I have news on the Reaper'. Clint felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was pretty sure this was a trap, but he needed to make sure Lucas was alright. He headed towards the apartment building and sent a message to Phil letting him know where he was headed. The man would literally kill him if he went ahead without letting him know where he was going.

Finally reaching the room, the archer checked his gun and wondered for the hundredth time why he hadn't brought his bow with him. He felt naked without it. He knocked first but was already sure that he wouldn't get an answer. Twisting the handle he pushed the door open and peeked inside. It was quiet and dark. Clint reached for the light switch on the wall and froze when a voice called out, "In here Clint."

Barton moved into the room silently, ignoring how loud his heart was beating in his ears. The voice hadn't been Lucas's, and he was certain he would find the Reaper at the end of the hall leading into the living room. This man had taken out SHIELD agents and killed more than the one civilian they knew about. This wasn't the little boy Clint had once tried to protect. He just had to remember that.

When he entered the room he couldn't have prepared himself for what he found. Lucas was strapped to a chair in the centre of the room, ropes tied around his wrists and feet. Blood covered half of his face, dripping down onto the laminate flooring. The sound echoed in Clint's ears. His first instinct was to run over and check to see if the man was still alive, but he couldn't see the Reaper. He checked the other rooms quickly, efficiently and was about to open the last door when a noise behind him had him spinning around, gun drawn. Lucas lifted his head slowly and turned to Clint, his eyes were full of sadness and apology. The archer froze as a hand reached around his neck placing a knife so tight that Clint could feel it scrape against his Adam's apple when he swallowed. The Reaper raised his other hand and snatched the gun out of Barton's hand, keeping the pressure on the blade to remind the archer who was in control. Clint wasn't too bothered, he didn't need a gun to take someone out, but it did help. Clint was pushed back into the room and spun to face the boy he once knew.

"Clint Barton, it's been a while." The Reaper smirked and twirled the knife around in his hand.

"Yeah Reece, it has." The archer kept his guard up even though they sounded like two friends catching up.

Reece smiled and stepped closer to Lucas who was staring between the two in confusion. "So you remember me, I'm impressed."

"I'm not. Why the hell are you doing this Reece? What happened to you?" Clint inched closer to his tied up friend. He needed to get him out of here.

The Reaper kept a safe distance between himself and Barton, the man was a SHIELD agent after all. He smirked at the archer. "I found my calling Clint, I see you found yours too." Reece chuckled at the glare sent his way. "Too bad I have to kill you, but you see," Reece shrugged, "I just can't help myself."

"You don't have to do this Reece, let Lucas go." Clint tried to bargain but he already knew that it was a futile effort.

The assassin laughed. "Umm….no. I think I will kill him and then you and I can have a little fun. What do you say?"

Clint's eyes darkened as he took in Lucas's injuries and the fact the man was barely holding on to consciousness, then turned his heated glare on the Reaper. "I think your fun is about to be over."

"We'll see."

The trained SHIELD assassin moved quickly to the left when the knife the Reaper held was suddenly hurled at him. Clint rolled to his feet and threw a knife of his own. Reece knocked it away at the last second and if Barton hadn't been trying to kill the guy he might have been impressed. Knowing he only had another two knives on him, the agent had to make them count. Ducking under another knife as it sailed through the air towards his head, Clint managed to get close enough to slip one of his knives into Lucas's hand as he moved past him.

The Reaper smirked to himself as he watched Clint scramble out of the way to safety, using the old sofa as cover. He thought he might get more of a challenge from the man in front of him. If he was an agent of SHIELD he had to be good. Didn't he?

The archer gripped his back up gun and took a deep breath before diving out from behind his cover and squeezed the trigger. The Reaper moved quickly but not quickly enough to completely avoid the bullet. It skimmed the side of his head leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Reece growled and moved closer to the restrained man in the middle of the room. He held another knife ready in his hand, if Clint thought he was going to get another shot at him, he was sadly mistaken.

Barton moved from behind the couch he was using as cover and brought his gun up to bare. He never even got a chance to squeeze the trigger before he saw the flash of silver and the knife imbedding itself in his hand. The gun clattered to the floor and Clint grunted in pain, dropping back behind the sofa. He stared at the three inch blade sticking out of the top of his hand. Grasping the handle he grit his teeth before yanking the offending weapon out of his skin. The archer bit his lip to stop from crying out and then used the blade to cut a strip of material from his shirt to use as a bandage.

"How you doing Clint?" Reece asked without a hint of emotion. "I think you should come out now."

Barton squeezed his eyes shut from the burning pain in his hand and desperately pushed it to the back corner of his mind, he needed to focus now. "Dandy….and no I don't think so."

"C-Clint….." The archer froze as he heard the whispered words from the man who saved his life over a year ago.

"If you don't come out now, I will slit his throat," the Reaper promised.

Clint sighed and peeked over the couch and wanted to groan in frustration. Reece stood holding the knife the agent had given to Lucas and pressed it against the injured man's throat, his eyes cold and devoid of any emotion. Clint knew the man would carry out his promise, and he just couldn't live with that. Knowing Phil would probably kick his ass for being so reckless and getting hurt, he also knew his handler would forgive him, he always did. And right at this very moment Clint knew he would be screaming at him not to do anything stupid. _Where was the fun in that though_?

"Okay, I'm coming out." Barton stood slowly, his hands in the air. Lucas's eyes pleaded with him not to do this, but Clint just gave a slight shake of his head. He owed him this.

"Good, now very slowly put any other weapons you have onto the floor and kick them towards me." Reece grinned evilly and pressed the knife into Lucas's skin, a thin trail of blood trickled down his neck to soak into the already stained t-shirt. "Quickly now Clint, or I might just lose my patience."

The young agent removed all the weapons he had left and kicked them over. He felt naked without them but he also knew he'd gotten out of situations without a weapon before, it was called improvising. Clint seemed to do that a lot.

"That's better. Now you and I are going to leave here together, and in return I won't kill your friend here. But don't try anything stupid Clint, I'm not that scared little boy anymore, and I will put a knife between your shoulder blades if you do anything stupid." The Reaper smirked as Clint arched an eyebrow at him, then nodded to his terms.

"Clint don't, I'm not worth your life," Lucas pleaded.

"Isn't that touching? Maybe I will get that story out of you Barton, I'm intrigued." Reece smiled and swiftly backhanded the man in the chair causing him to pass out.

"What the hell Reece, you said you wouldn't hurt him!" Clint shouted.

A knife was pointed towards Clint's face and he clamped his mouth shut. The guy did have a deadly aim.

"I was simply knocking him out. He was only a means to an end. When I found out you were here after your little conversation outside the bar and that you were investigating me, I had to get you here. You are SHIELD after all, and I've gotten quite fond of making your kind squeal. It's so much better than civilians, they cry and scream before I even cut them. Agents on the other hand, you are trained for this sort of thing, isn't that right? I made the last one, what was his name? Oh yes, agent Wilson." The Reaper smiled as he watched Clint stiffen. "He was tough, managed to outlast the others before he gave in and screamed, and then I took pity on him and slit his throat."

The archer swallowed down the bile he felt rising to the surface. "You're an evil, twisted son of a bitch, you know that. And I _will_ kill you, you have my word."

Reece chuckled darkly. "I'd love to see that Clint, I really would. But will that be before or after I make you beg for death?"

"Why are you doing this Reece?" The young archer asked.

"Because I can, and it makes me feel alive for the first time in years." He stared into the archer's eyes. "You should know what it feels like, you are an assassin after all. How can you not love the feeling of someone's life draining out of them, and know it's because of you?"

Clint was shaking his head in disgust. "You're a monster Reece, and if it's the last thing I do, I will make sure you don't hurt anyone else."

"Only time will tell."

The Reaper picked up two knives, one that belonged to the archer and the other was the one he had put through the agent's hand. Then he grabbed the backup gun that had been used against him and aimed it at Hawkeye. He wasn't a fan of guns but it would be easier to keep Clint in line. The assassin motioned for Clint to walk out of the room and smiled when he saw the hesitation cross Barton's features. The archer really didn't want to be putting his back to his enemy, but what other choice did he have.

The agent walked out of the room hoping that his backup would arrive soon, if not in time to save him then at least to get Lucas out of there and to a hospital. They reached the elevator and Reece pushed the gun to the back of Clint's head, telling him to walk inside. The archer knew it was risky but at least they were out of the apartment. Before getting into the elevator, he spun and ducked at the same time the gun went off, the bullet slamming into the metal doors as they slid shut. Clint swiped the Reapers legs out from under him and knocked the gun away with his foot. It skidded a few feet away and Clint found himself staring at a very pissed Reaper, he grinned.

Reece's eyes narrowed in anger and he attempted to knock the archer off-balance by kicking his foot out, but Clint was ready and flipped backwards. His hand flared in agony but he ignored it, he had more important things to worry about right now. The Reaper jumped to his feet and glared at the stubborn agent.

"Impressive," Reece commented.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Clint chuckled darkly.

Just as he was about to move forward the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Clint heard the guns of three agents cock, ready to fire. The archer smirked back at Reece then immediately ducked as the other assassin started throwing knives with deadly accuracy. One of the agents was down before firing his weapon and the second managed to get one shot off before a knife lodged in his throat; he dropped to the floor dead.

The third managed to fire a few shots off then take cover inside the elevator. He called out, "Agent Barton get inside!" while firing another round of bullets.

Clint shook his head, he needed to take this guy out, not give him time to disappear. "Get out of here, and toss me a gun."

"Barton!"

"Now!" Screamed the archer as another knife lodged in the wall, inches from his head. _How many knives did this guy have on him_?

The agent inside the elevator threw out his spare gun and fired at Reece managing to hit him in the arm. The Reaper growled and threw another deadly weapon and watched with satisfaction as it sank into the third agent's chest. Clint knew he'd have to leave his cover to get the gun so he took a deep breath and dived out, gripping the gun, rolling to his knees and fired, at the same time the other assassin threw another of his endless supply of knives toward him. The bullet hit Reece's ear and he cried out clutching the injury, his hands were covered in blood.

The Reaper glanced over at the agent and smirked as he watched Clint reach up to touch the knife sticking out of his shoulder, the archer was feeling a little light-headed and weakly grasped the hilt of the blade. He hadn't lost that much blood, so why the hell did he feel like he was going to pass out.

Reece's lips quirked in an evil grin. "It's poisoned, how else did you think I managed to capture three SHIELD agents? You're all supposed to be the best after all."

Clint struggled to put as much distance as he could from the Reaper, who was making his way slowly towards him.

"Your mine now Clint," he chuckled.

Barton wanted to scream in frustration. His eyes started to close and everything felt heavy. Once he collapsed to the floor he knew he was in trouble. All he saw was a pair of black boots in his field of vision before he knew no more.


	5. Chapter 5

A huge thank you to those who have reviewed or added this story to your favourites...hugs to you all! :)

And a massive hug to DevinBourdain, you've helped me out soooo much with this, I even get goose bumps reading it...lots more darkness/Clint whump in this chapter, you have been warned.

* * *

Phil Coulson jumped out of the black sedan as it screeched to a halt, the three remaining agents jumping out after him. His heart was hammering in his chest and he knew, he just knew, that something had happened to Clint. Pushing the worry out of his mind he ran up the few steps that took him inside the building.

Agent Davis was waiting outside the elevator and Phil could see the man almost sigh in relief. "Sir."

"Talk to me Davis."

The agent nodded. "I've lost contact with three of my agents sir. They went up in the elevator and Agent Caulder is guarding the back exit. No one has left so they must still be in the building."

Coulson pointed to two of the agents that arrived with him. "You two with me. Davis and Riley, you two stay here. How long ago did you lose contact?"

"Only a few minutes ago, sir," Davis responded.

Phil nodded and headed up using the stairs, the two agents following in his wake. _Please be alright, please be alright_. The handler repeated the mantra in his head as he got to the floor room 102 was on. Phil stopped outside the door and pointed to the two agents to check left while he went right. They nodded and readied their guns. Coulson moved first and his experienced eyes narrowed at the sight of blood on the walls, and what looked like bullet holes and knife marks in the walls.

"Agent Coulson, over here."

The agent made his way over to the other agents and froze when he came to the open elevator. Three bodies, three SHIELD agents, all lying in pools of blood. Phil felt sick. He raised an eyebrow in question when Agent Thomas checked for life signs; he already knew there wouldn't be.

"There all dead, sir," Thomas said quietly.

Coulson paused and took a calming breath, it would do no one any use if he fell apart and started punching things; that just wasn't his way. Instead he remained detached, calm in the face of the carnage before him. But he also knew that as soon as he found out about Clint, it would be harder to control the façade.

"Barnes, you stay here, contact a clean-up crew. Thomas you're with me, we'll check out the room Agent Barton was heading to." The agents nodded and Phil turned, moving silently down the corridor with Thomas at his back.

The door was open a fraction and Coulson nodded to Thomas to enter first. They cleared the area quickly and efficiently as all SHIELD operatives were trained to do. Phil could smell the coppery scent of blood. Steeling himself, he walked into the end room with his weapon drawn and froze.

"Lucas?" Phil rushed forward and pressed shaking fingers to the man's neck and smiled when he felt a pulse, _thank god_.

Pain filled eyes were suddenly staring at him. "Ag'nt Coul'sn?"

Coulson shouted at Thomas to call for an ambulance and quickly checked the injured man over. Blood was everywhere and he tried to focus on Lucas but his chest was burning with worry for his young agent. The man in the chair must have noticed.

"The R-Reaper…..t-took Clint…..they kn-ow….each other…" Lucas gasped, the cuts he received weren't very deep, but they had bled a lot.

Phil froze, he knew deep down that the Reaper had his young charge but hearing it confirmed had his insides clench painfully at the thought of what he would do to Clint.

"Y-you need…..to find…..him," Lucas coughed and almost tumbled forward when Phil untied the ropes around his wrists and legs. Thomas ran back through and helped Phil wrap up the worst of the man's injuries.

"Ambulance is on its way and I checked with Davis and Caulder, still nothing sir. They have to still be inside the building," Thomas told the lead agent as they finished wrapping the wounds.

Phil stood and flipped his phone open. "Sir, I need more agents. The Reaper has Clint and they are somewhere within this building."

Fury could hear his agent's concern flowing through the phone. "They're on their way Phil. Keep me posted."

"Yes sir."

"And Phil?"

"Sir?"

"Kill this bastard," Fury ordered in his usual demanding tone and Phil found himself smiling.

"Yes sir!"

Death was going to find the Reaper today, Phil would make it happen.

* * *

Clint was jolted awake with a backhand to his face. He groaned and let his head fall forward. Man he hated drugs, everything still felt heavy and he couldn't concentrate. The archer grunted when his head was yanked up by someone gripping his hair painfully tight. His fuzzy head was still trying to determine where he was and who had him, it was kind of sad that this was a usual occurrence for him.

"Wakey, wakey Clint. We have lots to get started with," came the Reaper's creepy voice in his ear. The hand gripping his hair suddenly vanished and Clint's head fell forward to his chest.

_Well shit_.

The agent tried to move his hands but realised they were bound to the hard chair he was currently occupying, and his ankles bound to the legs of the chair.

Reece chuckled. "Come on Barton, I want to see what you're made of." He paused, tapping his knife against his cheek then smiled at the archer. "Inside and out."

"Fuck you Reece," Clint spat weakly, damn he hated drugs.

"No thanks." The Reaper backhanded him again and Clint grunted. The young agent forced himself to open his eyes even as he felt the pull of the drugs trying desperately to take him back under. The archer knew if he focussed on the pain it would ground him, and keep him from falling back into a drug induced sleep. Closing his eyes he felt the burning from the stab wound to his shoulder, and heard the drip, drip, drip of blood from his hand hitting the concrete floor. The makeshift bandage was saturated with red liquid.

Reece must have noticed the agent's struggle to stay awake and decided to help. He pressed his thumb into his captive's shoulder and grinned when the man arched his back and bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. The Reaper smirked and moved away, twirling the knife in his hand around and around, admiring its beauty.

"How did you end up at SHIELD Clint? The last I heard you were just a petty crook. They must have really lowered their expectations when they decided to make you an agent."

Clint looked up at the young man in front of him. "What can I say Reece, I'm that good they decided to turn me from the dark side to the good."

The assassin in front of him smirked. "I've heard, the infamous Hawkeye, I was surprised to find out it was you though Clint. Very surprised. Back at the orphanage you were always trying to look out for the younger kids, and now you're a cold-blooded killer, just like me."

"I'm nothing like you Reece!" Clint snapped.

The Reaper chuckled. "Struck a nerve there did I? You kill people Clint, whether it be for the government or not. You still kill, how is that any different from what I do?" He actually seemed genuinely confused.

The archer shook his head, the guy just didn't get it. "What I do is for the good of the country, you kill people for fun Reece. In what world is that okay?"

"In mine."

"Well there's your answer, you're a fucking psychopath." Clint smirked at the enraged look that spread across the assassin's face. He knew he shouldn't be antagonizing the man, but Clint being Clint, just couldn't help himself.

Reece's cold dark eyes intently flickered over every inch of the archer, sizing his captive up, looking for that kid that had been brave enough to take an interest in him all those years ago. He leaned forward until he was mere inches from Barton's face and with more honesty than a murder should have, said, "We could be brilliant together, Clint."

Barton flinched away from the words. The irrational fear from years of being told he was no good, a plague upon those who dared get close to him, bubbled up. Could this sadist see the darkness within him that he had prayed he could hide from the world?

"The things we could do. Think of all the new ways we could tear people apart, the rush would never end. The world wouldn't be able to stop us; we'd be gods among men." Delight flickered in his hollow eyes and a wave of euphoria spread through him just thinking of the possibilities.

Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, the archer simply replied, "There is nothing you could ever say or do that would convince me to be like you."

"Let's start then shall we?" Reece growled, his time for talking was done.

"Why not, it's not like I had any other plans but to take you out and here you are." Barton smirked at the twitch that he caused in the Reaper's eye.

Reece gripped the archer by the hair and pulled his head back, the sharp point of the knife pressed against his exposed throat. Clint tried desperately to hide any fear from his face, he wasn't going to let the other man know that one of his worst fears was having his throat slit. The other was anything to do with his eyes, they were what made him who he was.

Clint felt the trickle of warm blood running down his neck, and swallowed. The guy was seriously unhinged.

"Don't test me Barton, I will not give you the easy way out. I'm going to make you scream and when I finally do, and I know I will. Only then will I slit your throat. This is the deal I made with every other agent."

"What about the girl, Laura?" Clint asked.

Reece smiled. "Everyone has needs Clint. But I lost control, I always lose control once I get a taste of blood."

The archer frowned. "How did you get a taste?" He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I bit her." The Reaper smiled as he recalled the memory.

Clint grimaced, that was disgusting. "Nice," he said sarcastically.

Reece walked round to stand behind Clint and pushed him forward. The archer breathed through his nose and struggled not to panic. He hated not being able to see what was going on. The material of his t-shirt was pulled away from his body, the knife cutting through the fabric easily. Clint tried not to flinch at the few times Reece nicked his back as the material was removed.

The archer sat frozen when Reece started touching his back, almost gently. The agent could feel his chest tighten in fear, he had no idea what the Reaper would do.

"You got these from the orphanage, didn't you? That man was a mean old bastard, but he took a liking to you." Reece smirked as Clint tried to hide the shudder that ran through his body at the memory.

The younger assassin caressed the old scars that littered Clint's back before bringing his knife down and cutting into one of them. Barton's body tensed and he clamped his mouth shut, _breath through the nose, out through the mouth_. Clint repeated it over and over as Reece carved new pain into old memories.

It was almost five minutes later and the archer was panting, trying to control the pain that had encompassed his body. He wasn't sure how many times the Reaper had cut into his back, having lost count after four. Reece chuckled and gave Clint a pat on the back before moving away. Barton almost bit right through his lip.

"I can see why you are considered the best, Clint, not even a whimper."

"F-fuck you!" Clint hissed in agony as Reece shoved him roughly back in the chair, his freshly open wounds burning like a fire across his back.

The agent barely had time to prepare himself as the knife was brought down onto his arm, straight through until it imbedded in the arm of the chair. Clint thought he was going to pass out but still managed to stop the scream of pain from escaping his lips.

"W-why?" Clint managed to ask after a minute of trying desperately not to pass out.

The Reaper smiled. "Why what?" He stood a few feet from the archer and watched as the blood pooled onto the floor.

"W-why are y-you doing t-his?"

"I used to be afraid Clint, from my dad, from bullies and just from life in general. But then I realised something, instead of being afraid I was going to stand up to them. I killed my father first, but it was over too quickly. I realise now I should have taken more time. Savoured it. So then I began practising and found I wasn't afraid anymore. I went after everyone that ever hurt me, brought justice upon them." He leaned forward to stare Clint directly in the eye. "That's what you do isn't it, bring justice to those who deserve it."

The archer shook his head sadly. "N-no Reece, you kill b-because you e-enjoy it. I have n-never and w-will never enjoy it. But it n-needs to be d-done." The agent knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, between his hand, shoulder and now his arm he was losing too much blood. "W-why me? I t-tried to protect you."

Reece scoffed. "Yeah you did such a good job, when you left guess who _he_ turned to? Yes that's right, me." The assassin paced away from the archer and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "To be honest though, I didn't know you were SHIELD, but I was told by one of your agents that Hawkeye was the best, so I saw it as a sort of challenge. It just turned out to be fate that you are Hawkeye. Ironic don't you think, it's like some higher power knew you should be punished."

Clint's head drooped forward to his chest, he did feel bad that by leaving the orphanage he had let someone else be abused by Bradford, the man in charge. But he didn't think he deserved this, he was just a kid then too. Barton knew that wouldn't make a difference in Reece's mind, the assassin was fuelled by blood and that is all that would satisfy him.

Reece walked over to stand in front of the injured agent and gripped the handle of the knife still protruding from his arm and yanked it out. Clint squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, he almost cried out that time but it turned into more of a whimper, _fuck_!

The Reaper smiled sadistically as he knew he was getting close, he would make the Hawk beg for death. He gripped the blade in both hands and was ready to drive the weapon into Clint's thigh when a voice rang out in the darkness.

"Put. The. Weapon. Down." Reece froze and glanced up, an agent of SHIELD stood at the doorway to the basement, his gun aimed at the young assassin's head. But the Reaper knew he couldn't stop, he wouldn't until all the Hawk's blood was spilled.

"Don't do it kid," came a calm steady voice. The man in the suit stepped closer, his gun never wavering, but Reece saw his face pale when he got a good look at the agent tied up in the chair. The blood pooling on the floor was a dead giveaway of how bad the situation was.

"I don't want to have to kill you Reece, but I will if you don't put the weapon down. Now!"

The Reaper glanced down at Barton and saw his eyes were closed, blood was still pouring from his wounds so was still alive, for now. _Not for long_, Reece thought. He locked eyes with the agent and brought the blade down.

Phil knew what he was going to do as soon as the Reaper made eye contact with him and without hesitation he fired, the bullet piercing the young assassin between the eyes. The body dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. The older agent found he didn't really care, his one focus was the bleeding man in front of him.

He rushed over and placed his fingers to his agent's neck, relieved to feel a pulse even if it was weak. Phil could have kicked himself; Barton had been right under their noses, just several floors below them, suffering at the hands of a mad man.

"Thomas get the medics in here, NOW!" Phil couldn't contain his panic, he quickly cut the ropes away and lowered Clint onto the cold concrete floor. There was blood everywhere but there was nothing Phil could do about that now. He had to make sure no more of the precious liquid escaped.

"Clint? Clint come on, open your eyes. Open those baby blue's for me." Phil felt true fear grip his heart when there was no response. _Get your shit together Phil, he still has a pulse_.

Thomas ran in with two medics and stopped dead at the sight of Barton laying on the ground with blood everywhere. He wasn't sure how anyone could survive that much blood loss, but he knew if anyone was going to be the exception it would be Hawkeye, the man was known for beating the odds.

Phil helped the medics out where he could but they could tell there would be no telling the older agent to back off. Coulson stayed at Clint's head, talking quietly to him, running his fingers through the kid's short hair and pleading with him to keep fighting. No one said anything about the quiver they heard in the handler's voice as he spoke, no one dared.

"Let's get him out of here." Phil nodded and followed behind without a word, Clint would make it, he had to or Phil would drag his ass back just to kill him again for putting him through this.


	6. Chapter 6

Fury marched down to the medical bay as soon as he heard they had arrived back. He was pissed. Three more agents been killed and Barton had been tortured by the Reaper and almost became the eighth SHIELD agent to die at the hands of the deadly assassin. He also found out that Lucas, the man from one of Barton's previous assignments had been tortured as well.

The doors to medical swished open and Fury was a blur of black leather as he made his way along the corridor to where he knew Phil would be made to wait. The director came to a halt at the sight of his lead Agent. The normally straight-faced, well-mannered, professional agent Fury had known for almost ten years was being man handled out of the double doors which led to surgery.

"Get your god damn hands off me!" Phil shouted at the burly men that had been charged with removing him from Clint's side.

Fury strode over and gripped Phil's arm and pulled him aside while glaring at the two men who decided it would be best to disappear. When Nick finally took in the state of his agent he was unprepared for the look of devastation in Coulson's eyes. The next thing he noticed was the blood that covered the distraught man; the usually pristine white shirt was now a dark red.

"Fuck Phil, you look like shit." Fury pushed the younger agent into the plastic chair.

Coulson just glared at his boss, he really didn't need him to state the obvious.

Fury's eyes softened. "How is he?"

Phil's silence spoke for itself. Fury sighed and took the seat next to him. It was going to be a long wait.

Coulson was grateful for his boss's company while he waited for news on his agent, his friend. Fury offered silent comfort knowing there was no point in offering false hopes. They both knew for a fact that Barton was as stubborn as they came and would fight with everything he had.

It was almost three hours before the doctor finally walked out of the double doors. Phil felt sick at the sight of blood covering the man's scrubs. But there was a glimmer of awe in the doctor's eyes that made the handler hope that the news of his charge's condition would be positive.

"How is he?" Phil asked while standing but was pulled back down by the director.

The doctor smiled and gave Phil a strange look that made the agent wonder what he was going to say. "I swear Phil, your boy has a guardian angel or something. He is going to be fine. The wound to his hand and arm will heal without lasting effects, the one to his shoulder and the numerous cuts to his back will take slightly longer but I don't foresee any problems. The main concern was the amount of blood he lost but we have given him a transfusion to bring his levels back up to normal."

Phil sighed and buried his face in his hands before looking up at the doctor and shaking his hand. "Thanks Doc."

The surgeon nodded and pointed through the double doors. "He is just about to be moved to his own room. You can go through in the next five minutes Phil." The doctor nodded to the director before walking back through the doors to get cleaned up.

"Come on Phil, go get cleaned up and then we can go see Barton." Fury gave him a look that meant no arguments. Coulson looked down at his stained clothes and frowned, he really did look like shit. Fury gave him a knowing smirk before making a shooing motion with his hand.

"Go Agent Coulson, before I make it an order."

Phil glared but started walking towards the toilets and grabbed himself a pair of scrubs on the way. They'd do for now, until he could get another suit brought to him. The handler froze in front of the mirror; he looked like he'd just came out of a horror movie. He started pulling off the clothes quickly, and tossed them in the bin, not wanting the reminder of almost losing Clint. He wasn't sure how he didn't have grey hair yet, the kid was seriously going to cause him a heart attack one day with all the worrying he did.

He cleaned himself up as best he could and changed into the blue scrubs and was headed back outside within five minutes. Fury arched an eyebrow at him but Phil just waved him off. He needed to see the kid with his own eyes before he would start to calm down. It was the same thing he did every time the archer got injured.

"Let's go see our boy then." Fury said, then followed Coulson into the small room.

Phil sat for the next two hours waiting, waiting for any sign that his charge was going to wake up. Fury had stayed for an hour before he was summoned away for important SHIELD business. The council wanted an update on what happened with the Reaper, the director had groaned and gave Phil a sympathetic look before leaving him alone.

Coulson ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply as he watched the steady rise and fall of Clint's chest. He knew at some point they would have to talk about what happened, and he wasn't meaning what just took place with Reece. He had heard some of what the Reaper had said to Clint before he had stealthily made his way into the basement. The things that had happened to Clint while he stayed at the orphanage, Phil was aware that Barton had hated it there but that was as much as he knew. This Bradford better be dead already or Phil would be making him wish he was. He stopped that train of thought right there. That was how Reece had gotten started, a simple act of revenge against someone that probably did deserve it, but the boy had gone too far and gotten lost in a sea of blood. When innocent blood was spilled it brought SHIELD to his door, Phil just wished they hadn't suffered as many casualties as they had.

His eye's snapped up when he caught movement and reached forward taking Clint's uninjured hand in his.

"Clint? Can you hear me?" Phil spoke softly.

He got a brief nod but the archer's eyes were still closed. Coulson stood and turned the lights down before returning to his seat. Blue eyes watched him before turning to look at the ceiling.

"H-how l-long…?" Barton winced at how bad he sounded and shot Phil a grateful smile when a glass of water was brought to his lips.

"Take it nice and slow Clint, you know the drill." Phil smirked and set the glass down after the archer nodded that he'd had enough.

Clint raised an eyebrow at his handler causing the older agent to chuckle. "About seven hours. You're going to need a lot of rest Clint."

The younger man nodded and glanced at his shoulder. "How bad?"

"The Doc says you'll be fine, the shoulder and your back will take a bit longer to heal though."

Barton sighed in relief, he was glad it hadn't hit anything which would make him unable to fire his bow. "Thanks."

Phil frowned. "For what?"

"Saving my ass back there. How did you find me?" He had thought he was starting to hallucinate when he heard Phil's voice and promptly passed out. "Is Lucas okay?"

"He's doing fine, better than you anyway. But that's not unusual, is it?" Phil glared.

Clint smiled. "But apparently I've got an angel on my shoulder."

"Uh huh. I think that angel will start charging you soon." Phil smirked at the archer's less than heated glare. "We found you by following the trail of blood you left behind. Good idea by the way."

The Hawk glared at the sarcastic tone from his handler, he knew the man was worried and let it slide. He really couldn't get into an argument right now.

"I'm sorry Phil," Clint said quietly.

Coulson sighed and squeezed the young man's hand. "Don't apologise Clint, just try to stop getting injured. You're going to give me grey hair or a heart attack one of these days."

Laughing slightly the archer replied, "Is that a grey hair I see Phil?"

"Very funny. You get some rest, we'll talk later alright?"

The archer nodded. "Okay Phil."

Phil stayed until he was sure the young agent was asleep and pulled the covers over him. The handler knew he would sleep a bit better now after speaking to Clint. Deciding it would be better to stay in the room in case Barton had any nightmares, Phil pulled a spare blanket off the bed and made himself comfortable on the small couch in the corner of the room. He lay facing the bed and kept watch until his eyes would no longer stay open.

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One more chapter to go...


	7. Chapter 7

Special thanks to those who reviewed - kimbee, Janechen88, DesignedByFate, Lollypops101, Hawaiichick, Bookdancer, Dani9513 and Guest.

Hugs to you all :)

So here it is...the last chapter.

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The archer breathed in the scent of fresh air. He had to admit he was proud of himself, not only did he follow Phil's orders of not getting out of bed, or signing himself out early as he usually did, but he actually waited two whole days before sneaking up to the roof. That had to be a record.

Breathing a sigh of relief as the gentle breeze touched his healing skin, like a hand caressing him, he stared out into the darkness.

Clint left his light hoodie open as the wounds on his back were still tender, his hand was still wrapped tightly in a white bandage as was his arm. He'd kept his arm in the sling even though his first thought was to throw it away. But after seeing the look on Phil's face he knew he couldn't. The man was the closest thing to family he had and he hated seeing him looking worried.

The young agent stood looking out for almost ten minutes before he felt a presence at his back, he smiled. Phil had obviously given him an extra five minutes before coming out, because it never took him that long to find him.

"How you feeling?"

Clint arched an eyebrow and turned to his handler, the man stood at his shoulder with a smile playing on his lips. Coulson knew the archer was waiting to get his ass kicked for being out of the infirmary.

"I'm good."

His handler arched an eyebrow back at him.

"Okay, I'm still sore, but nothing I can't handle," Clint told him truthfully because it was, he'd had worse.

Phil nodded accepting the truth in his charge's words. "Okay."

Silence fell between them and the young agent knew Coulson was itching to talk to him about what happened. He waited till Phil was about to open his mouth before turning to him and shaking his head. The older agent frowned but was taken aback when Clint started talking.

"I know you want to ask me about what happened between me and Reece, but I'm asking you as a friend not to." The young agent looked like a vulnerable little boy who was pleading with Phil not to ask him about his past.

Phil sighed. "Clint, I heard Reece say things about your time at the orphanage before I took him out. I know you don't want to talk about it, and I can't make you, but I need you to understand that if you ever want to, I'm here to listen."

The young archer smiled. "I know Phil. But there are a lot of things from my past I haven't told you about, and it's not that I don't trust you, I do. It's the fact I don't want to remember the horrors of my past. The one thing that keeps me going now, is that no matter how shitty my life was, you came into my life and helped me get my shit together and you continue doing it every day. I don't think I can ever repay you for what you have done for me."

Coulson swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill over.

Clint placed his uninjured hand on Phil's shoulder and gave it an appreciative squeeze. "Thank you, Phil."

The handler nodded, still trying to get his emotions under control. "You're welcome, Clint."

"I'm assuming you're here to take me back inside?" Barton asked.

"I think we can give it another five minutes."

Clint smiled and turned to stare out at the city, the darkness that claimed the night was slowly fading to the light that was struggling to push through. It was ironic that it reminded the archer of himself, the darkness inside him was always there, but now he had a pushy handler that struggled to bring the light into the sea of black. Coulson was like no one he'd ever met. The man could be downright annoying and pushy but he always wanted what was best for the archer, and Clint trusted the man more than he had anyone in his entire life. It felt good, he realised. It was hard to trust someone so completely, but he found he was getting there. Heknew without a doubt that Phil would always be there for him.

He just hoped he could return the favour.

"Come on, let's get you back inside."

Clint nodded and followed the older man back inside the building, glancing over his shoulder one last time and noticed the light had started to spill through, it was a new day. The archer smiled to himself and walked through the door.

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Epilogue

It was almost a week later before the doctor signed Clint off for light duties. He sighed as he stretched out on Phil's couch, it always felt comfortable no matter what injuries he suffered. He really had to find out where his handler got it from.

He closed his eyes and smiled as he listened to his music. The song 'running up that hill' by Placebo started playing and he tapped his fingers along to the beat. Phil was in a meeting with Fury about a new mission for one of the other teams, which meant Clint was stuck here on base doing physio and light workouts.

The archer hated being injured, it sucked.

It was just coming to the end of his song when he felt a presence and knew it wasn't Phil. Clint just reacted, his eyes snapped open and he had the intruder on the floor with his forearm across their throat before they could even blink. Barton realised they weren't fighting back and finally looked at the man below him, grinning apologetically.

"Lucas? What the hell are you doing here?" Clint got up slowly, his arm and back protesting the sudden movement.

Lucas just smirked and pulled himself into a sitting position. "Came to see how you were, but I can see your just as good as ever."

The archer chuckled and helped the man stand, scanning him for any injuries. "Been better," he told the man with a tight smile. His back was really starting to hurt. The bigger man must have noticed the sudden change and offered to get a doctor or Phil.

Clint just waved away his concern. "I'm fine, just moved to fast." He smiled up at Lucas. "How are you?"

The ex con smirked back. "Much better than you it would seem, kid."

Barton gave a half glare at the man before him, before his expression became saddened. "I'm sorry Lucas."

The older man seemed genuinely confused. "For what?"

"What happened with Reece? You should never have been involved with that, it was my fault."

Lucas sat on the couch next to the young agent and shook his head. "No it wasn't. I chose to ask around for information, it was my fault he got you. He used me to get you."

"I'm guessing neither one of us is going to let this go, so let's just say we're both idiots." Clint laughed at Lucas's shocked expression.

"I'm not an idiot."

Barton chuckled. "We both are Lucas. If we had any sense we would have waited for back up. We both knew how dangerous this guy was."

"Alright, so we're idiots. You're a much bigger one than me though."

The archer laughed and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't really argue, Phil had told him as much when he got his ass chewed for going off on his own in the first place.

"So why are you here in Phil's office?" Clint leaned forward slightly so his back wasn't touching the cushions and gave a curious glance at his friend.

Lucas smiled. "Phil is helping me with a job opportunity."

"You're here for a job?"

It was another voice that answered. "Not with SHIELD but through a mutual friend of ours."

Clint frowned at Phil, trying to think of who he might be talking about. Coulson took pity on him. "He is going to work security at Stark Industries."

The young agent looked appalled. "Seriously, you're calling that ass hat a friend?"

Phil gave Lucas a shrug. "Howard Stark was one of the founders of SHIELD, Clint, so it only seems logical that Tony will join the agency. He will be assessed first though."

"Logical my ass," the archer muttered under his breath.

Lucas glanced between the two hoping for an answer. He wasn't feeling too sure about the job now. "You don't get along with this guy then Clint?"

Barton glared at Phil before turning back to Lucas. "I met him once and had to force myself not to strangle the life out of him. The guy is an arrogant ass, and treated me like some damn waiter."

Phil shook his head. "Clint you were undercover as a waiter, of course he'd treat you like one."

"He's still a dick."

Phil chuckled at his agent's childish attitude. "He may be, but he is still one of the good guys. And this is an opportunity for Lucas to have a well-paying job and hopefully keep him out of trouble." He gave the bigger man a look that said he better keep out of trouble.

Lucas nodded, happy that the older agent was on his side. The man looked like he could bring enemies to their knees with that look.

"I'll just get you the paperwork you'll need and you're good to go Lucas."

"Thanks Phil." Lucas shook the man's hand before Coulson headed to the door.

Clint stood and shook the bigger man's hand. "Keep yourself out of trouble big guy. And if Stark even glances at you the wrong way, you let me know. I'll come down and kick his ass with pleasure."

Lucas smiled and nodded. "I think you just want an excuse Clint." The younger man just grinned.

"Don't be a stranger kid, I'd still like to keep in contact, make sure you haven't gotten yourself into any more trouble."

The young archer chuckled. "That's never going to happen Lucas, I'm like a trouble magnet."

Lucas nodded in understanding and walked over to the young man, placing a hand on Clint's uninjured shoulder and pulled him forward into a hug, careful not to aggravate his injuries. The archer froze for a second, unsure what to do. The only person to attempt to hug him was his handler and even then it wasn't something he did often. The bigger man chuckled and pulled back.

"You really don't know how to take comfort do you?" It wasn't a dig, more like a fact.

Clint shrugged and looked away feeling a little embarrassed. "Phil is the only one to have hugged me since I was just a kid."

Lucas looked sad. "You know you aren't alone now kid, you've got people who care about you. It's not considered weak to ask for help or take comfort in someone you trust." The young archer didn't say anything but Lucas knew he was taking in what he was saying. "Phil is a good man."

"Yeah he is." Clint responded quickly.

"Just make sure he keeps his promise or I'll come by and kick his ass." Clint laughed, actually laughed at the thought of Lucas going up against his handler.

"You're hurting my feelings here kid." Lucas grinned.

"Sorry, that was just….Phil would wipe the floor with you, no offense."

"None taken."

Clint thought about the other thing Lucas said. "Promise? What promise?"

The bigger man squeezed the archer's shoulder. "I told him last time he helped me out that he better look out for you. He promised he would."

Barton nodded. "Phil does his best, but there are some things that even he can't do anything about."

"It's called stubbornness, Barton." Phil spoke up as he walked back into his office.

Clint laughed and clapped Phil on the shoulder. "You wouldn't have me any other way, Phil."

Coulson huffed but he was smiling. He handed the paperwork to Lucas. "There you go, this is everything you will need and if you're have any problems just contact me, my number is in there."

Lucas nodded and gave Phil a look of gratitude. "Thanks." Then glanced over at the young man before him. "Take care of yourself Clint."

"I will Lucas. And thanks, for what you said."

The bigger man smiled and walked out of the office, ready to start his new life.

The archer turned to Phil with a thoughtful expression on his face. His handler gave him a concerned look in return. He wasn't sure what was going through the Clint's head and when he made his way towards Phil, the handler forced himself not to take a step back. He didn't like not knowing what was going on inside the young agent's head.

He froze in shock when the kid embraced him, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight. Phil slowly brought his arms around the young man and hugged him back, careful of his still healing back. Coulson wasn't sure what Lucas had said to Clint, but he had to remember to thank him.

"I can't promise to tell you everything that has happened to me, but I promise that if it ever gets too much for me, I will come to you."

Phil smiled and pulled back, staring into the young archer's blue eyes. "That all I ask Clint."

The young archer sighed and relaxed against the man he called his friend. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe he could let a few of the walls he'd built up around himself down every now and then. It was the least he could do for the man who had given him everything.

Taking a few steadying breaths, Clint pulled away from Phil and walked over to the couch. He smiled at the quizzical look on his handler's face before he found his voice and started to tell Phil of some of the horrors he experienced at the orphanage. Phil didn't say a word, just listened intently and gave comfort when it was needed. The young Hawk knew then what Lucas meant. Telling Phil what happened didn't make the bad things go away, but now he knew that his handler would just listen and wouldn't judge him.

He would be there for Clint even when he didn't think he needed anyone. He was his best friend and no one, not even death would take that from him.

The End.

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Thanks to all those who have reviewed and followed this story. It really means a lot knowing people enjoy what I'm writing.

I'm still working on 'Sanctuary' and should have something posted soon ;)


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